


like mud beneath the snow

by vexatioustothespirit



Series: parts of thoughts and fragments of ourselves [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, alcohol use, idk adora and catra are soft, im soft, kinda?? I guess??, once again my favs are drunk and gay, we're all soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexatioustothespirit/pseuds/vexatioustothespirit
Summary: Adora wanders out of a party. She finds Catra. It's snowing.





	like mud beneath the snow

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to expand on my last fic and do a series of one shots of Catra and Adora in college. Each will take place in sequential order, but each can stand as a stand alone one shot as well. This is definitely an artsy decision and not because I’m too lazy to write any in between parts.  
>   
> This one takes place about a month after the last one.  
>   
> Title from Snow by Sleeping at Last. Series title from The Visit by Regina Spektor.

_ Our families huddle closely _

_ Betting warmth against the cold _

_ All the bruises seem to surface _

_ Like mud beneath the snow _

* * *

 

Cold January air bites Adora’s face as she makes her way away from the pounding noise of the house party. She feels a bit bad about ditching Bow and Glimmer, but last she checked the duo were reigning champs of the pong table, and she doesn't want to bring down their mood. Right now, she just needs a break.

Adora doesn’t mean to wander so far out, she really doesn’t, but while she has learned to relax and enjoy herself at parties, sometimes it’s all too loud, too full, too much and right this moment she needs space to distance herself from it or she feels like she will suffocate.

The din of the festivities fades as she rounds the corner to the side of the frat house. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, collecting herself and relishing in the muffled silence of the freshly fallen snow. Several deep breaths later, she opens her eyes at which point she notices another figure partially masked by the shadows.

Her initial reaction is to turn around, creepy shadowy figure is not the safest thing, but at this point this seems like the lesser of two evils in comparison to the boisterous party behind her. “Uhm, hello,” she offers. 

There’s a pause, then a humorless chuckle meets her ears. “Hey, Adora,” drolls an unmistakably familiar voice. Her breath hitches.

“Catra.”

As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she is better able to make out Catra’s shape. The brunette is sitting in the snow further along the side of the house, leaning against the siding with a cigarette in hand. 

(Adora doesn’t hesitate to walk over to her.)

She stops a few paces from her, hands in her pockets. The snow continues to fall.

Catra’s expression is neutral, if not mildly curious, before it transforms into something darker. She sneers. “What are you doing out here anyway, where are tweedle dum and tweedle dummer?”

Adora reflexively bristles, anger beginning to boil up inside her as thousands of angry remarks fight their way forward as they have time and time again with Catra, then her shoulders relax and they fade away. She’s too emotionally exhausted to do this tonight. 

“You know their names,” she chastises half-heartedly. Catra looks surprised, and also relaxes somewhat.

“Whatever,” she says, equally half-heartedly.

Silence rests between them, light as the newfallen snow as Catra takes another drag from her cigarette. “I couldn’t be in there right now,” Adora blurts out suddenly, interrupting the silence. She sits down and pulls her legs to her chest. “I... felt like I was suffocating.”

Catra studies her for a moment before nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry that’s still happening.”

“It’s okay. Bow and Glimmer are really understanding and nice about it.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“I mean, I—I don’t think they fully get it, but they try their best, they do.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Snowfall.

“It’s good to talk about it with you. I know you won’t... that you don’t...” Adora trails off, searching for the words, but Catra nods.

“Yeah.” 

“You get it.”

“I do.”

Dancing snowflakes.

“What are you doing out here, then?” Catra pauses for a moment, then shrugs.

“Didn’t wanna be in there,” she answers.

“Oh?” she says in a way that indicates she wants to press for more.

“Yeah,” she states in a way that indicates she doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Okay,” she confirms in a way that indicates she understands.

Snowflakes.

Adora places her chin on her knees and tilts her head to look over at Catra. The latter is staring forward into the darkness. Her eyes flick over in Adora’s direction for a fraction of a moment—so fast that Adora can’t be sure they even do—before resuming their study of the night.

Adora finds herself studying her  ~~ former ~~ friend. She is horribly underdressed for the weather, dressed in nothing but a tank top and torn pair of black jeans. 

“Aren’t you cold?”

“No.”

Adora knows better than to offer her her jacket.

Instead she watches as the falling snowflakes melt on her bare shoulders, falling into something of a trance as she does so, watching as the melted flakes decorate her freckled skin.

(She thinks she sees Catra look over at her again but she isn’t quite sure.)

She isn’t really cold anymore either.

“Why aren’t we friends anymore?”

She doesn’t initially realize that she’s said the question out loud and not in her own head.

Catra laughs. “Because I hate you,” she says plainly.

Adora pulls her legs closer, now resting the side of her face on her knees. “You do?”

Catra pauses again, this time taking a swig from a flask that has previously been hidden from Adora’s view. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Oh.” She shifts again so her chin is on her knees, facing away into the darkness. 

The snow’s silence settles in again, but this time Catra is the one to break it. 

“Maybe I don’t hate you as much anymore.”

Adora grips her legs tighter and looks back at her. “Oh?” 

Catra flicks her cigarette away and it is lost in the snow. She takes out her lighter, but does not take out another cigarette. “Maybe. I don’t know.” With a flick of her thumb, a small flame appears, better illuminating her features as she takes another swig from her flask. She stares at it for a bit (though Adora is more mesmerized by the dance of the reflection of the flame in Catra’s mismatched eyes) before adding, “Maybe at this point there’s someone else I hate more.” 

Adora pauses to think. “Glimmer?”

Catra chuckles as the ghost of a smile crosses her features. “No.” 

“Bow?”

The flame goes out. “No.”

“Then--”

“That was my last cigarette,” interrupts Catra, striking the lighter again. “In the pack, I mean. Not forever.” The light goes out again as she turns to face Adora. “I know you don’t approve.”

Adora shifts her weight slightly, confused by the turn in the conversation. “I don’t,” she agrees after a moment.

“We all have our vices,” she says, holding out her flask. Adora accepts it and takes a sizable swig, grimacing at the taste. “I suppose I have more than my fair share, though.”

Adora studies the cold metal in her hand. “Maybe,” she acquiesces. “Maybe you’re just a bit more obvious about yours.” 

That comment seems to give Catra pause. She studies Adora curiously with a look on her face that she doesn’t think she’s seen before. She doesn't know how to read it. That thought unnerves her. She shifts around again, feeling uncomfortable under the full intensity of her gaze. 

“Maybe,” Catra murmurs finally, her attention still on Adora. Unable to take the weight of her stare any longer, she looks away, taking another sip from the flask. Without looking, she hands it back to Catra with a shudder. The latter accepts it and follows Adora’s lead but makes no visible reaction to the burning liquor.

They settle into silence again, the snow ceaselessly drifting down from above. 

Catra turns her attention skyward. “I’d kinda hoped the snow would bury me out here,” she confesses, with the nonchalance as if she were talking about her favorite food. Adora turns to face her as she continues to look upwards. Before Adora can respond, she continues. “I mean, not really, I guess.” She shrugs. “But it sounds nice.”

Adora is once again keenly aware of how underdressed for the weather Catra is.

Catra scowls suddenly. “Stop with that look.”

Adora’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “What look?”

“The pity look. I don’t want it.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Yeah you are.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“I can feel it though.”

“Catra.” She reaches out her arm to touch Catra’s bare shoulder, getting her attention. The other girl stiffens, as if she’s about to jerk away, but doesn’t move any further. “I’m not.” 

Catra ponders her for a moment and Adora returns her hand to her side. “Okay,” she says finally. 

“Okay.”

Catra takes another sip and passes her flask. Adora takes another sip and passes it back. The snow continues to fall.

“I still get scared when I’m alone sometimes,” Adora murmurs, looking at the ground. Catra shifts to face her, and she continues, “It’s just--I don’t know. I’m so used to having… that when I…” She hiccups, and her hands go to her head. “But then other times everyone is just so much and they expect a certain person from me and it’s all so much and I can’t but then other times I-I just… I don’t know…. “

“Adora, hey, Adora.” Suddenly, Catra is in front of her, her hands on top of Adora’s. “Adora, your hands.” Through Catra’s tender coaxing, she unclenches them from her scalp, having not realized she’d been grasping her head and pulling at her hair in the first place. With one hand, Catra gently traces the spots where she’d been clenching at her head. 

“You didn’t break the skin,” she murmurs softly, smoothing down Adora’s hair with one hand and absentmindedly tracing calming circles with her thumb on Adora’s palm with the other. 

“Thanks,” mumbles Adora, looking down. “Sorry, sometimes, I--”

“I know.”

“It’s just…” she trails off again and Catra nods.

“I know.” 

She smiles weakly. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah.” 

Catra takes a seat leaning against the house again, this time close enough to Adora that their shoulders are brushing. Her hand is still on top of Adora’s.

Catra sighs and leans her head on Adora’s shoulder. She smells of smoke and alcohol. It's strangely comforting. 

“Don’t let me get buried in the snow,” Catra says after some time.

“I won’t,” promises Adora. Catra squeezes her hand lightly. 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The snow continues to fall around them. And, for now, it’s okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my ranting about my favorite drunk gays. I have a tumblr that I don’t really use I guess. It has the same username as this account. Your comments give me the will to carry on writing.


End file.
